I've started looking after my brother-in-law's octogenarian aunt. Cooking, making sure she takes her meds, being there. She's a jolly old Navy lady with a lot to say, and I enjoy her conversation. Since her rehab from being stricken, she never stops talking. We thought it was a stroke, but it couldn't have been that. She definitely can talk. I don't mind, but after a while, she needs to conserve her strength, save herself.
The cat walks all over everything, and if I don't watch my food like a hawk, she'll stick her face in it. Cats belong outside, if you ask me. Although there are 100,000 stray cats already in the county.
The sweet, heavy set nurse who showed up in her minivan to take the night shift got lost on her way to the condo. And as she sat in her vehicle at a light, the cop in the next lane cited her for not having the seat belt on. That's a bullshit ticket. She wasn't even moving, and it was a residential area. How many hours will she have to work to pay it?
Apparently I was the last resort for my brother-in-law, Tom. He asked me to do this detail because none of the other relatives in the area, including my high school-aged nieces and nephews could fit it into their busy schedule.
The past week or so before he called me, I'd been sort of dying on the vine. My back's been screwed up. This morning it really hurt, and I thought, I'm the one who needs help. Maybe I should call my sister-in-law and have her send one of the kids up to get me on my feet, so that I can go over and get Aunt Stella on her feet. I'll be all right. It's good to have an occasion to rise to.
Tomorrow when I show up, if the cat is on the dining room table, I guess it's six more weeks of helping with the home care. Happy Groundhog Day.
(to be continued)
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